Volume
by SylviaHunterOfArtemis
Summary: Khajiit thief and Guild Master, Volume, starts having some problems. 1st, Mercer Fray begins to haunt her in her sleep. Then, her relationship with her second in command, Brynjolf, becomes horribly confusing on both ends. Suddenly, Volume is caught between the life she made in the Guild, her past and current dealings with Daedric Princes, and her protecting her most guarded secret.
1. Chapter 1

FULL SUMMARY:

Khajiit thief, and Guild Master, Volume, starts having some problems. First, Mercer Fray begins to haunt her in her sleep. Then, her relationship with her second in command, Brynjolf, becomes horribly confusing on both ends. Next thing she knows, Volume is caught between the life she made in the Guild, her past and current dealings with Daedric Princes, and her protecting her most heavily guarded secret: being the named Dovahkiin.

* * *

Chapter 1

This place was cold. Volume's short, thin fur prickled as she glanced at her surroundings. She was in an old, stone hall, not unlike the Hall of Stories that she had found months earlier in Bleak Falls Barrow. Volume was crouched near the far end of the hall, a large Nord puzzle door stood in front of her blocking her entry to the main sanctum. Someone stood next to her, barely noticeable if not for the air of anger that they emitted. Turning to see who was with her, Volume's heart threatened to stop.

"Mercer…" the word came out as a barely audible whisper. This was wrong. Mercer Frey was dead. Killed two months ago in the depths of Ikrinhand, his blood on the blade of Gallus, the Guild Master before him. His body lost in the chamber that had held the statute of Falmer, drowned and eyeless.

Mercer stood briskly, swearing under his breath as he examined the puzzle door. "Ancient Nordic puzzle door," He said to Volume after a moment, "Normally they're impossible to open without the matching claw… But I have a trick of my own…" He fiddled with the mechanism on the door before stepping back as it slid down into the stone floor.

"The Skeleton Key of Nocturnal." she said, fear and realization racked her thin frame.

"What did you just say?" Mercer Frey turned toward the young Khajiit woman, a new rage spread across his face.

"The Skeleton Key." Volume said again, her voice shaking, "That's how you opened the door. And how you stole from the Guild's vault. You stole the Key, murdered Gallus, framed the whole thing on Karlihia. Then you stole the Eyes of the Falmer just before I killed you."

He smiled at Volume. It was a sickly sort of smile, like the one that she would often have received from city guards when she was a small child and caught with her hand in someone's pocket. The type of smile that would make you feel as though you had a void in your stomach.

"Very good, Whelp." he spat, his smile growing wider still, "Than you know what happens next." He drew his sword and dagger.

Next thing Volume knew, she was awake.

"Dragons? You don't actually believe that you saw one, do you, Rune?" Brynjolf questioned.

"I know what I saw, and what I saw was a Dragon, plain as day." stated the younger thief named Rune. He had come back to the Ragged Flagon a little earlier that morning going on about the Dragon that he had scene returning from his last job.

"I'm telling ya, Bryn," he continued, "It was a Dragon I saw. Not some big bird or anything like that."

Brynjolf rubbed the back of his neck. It was still too early in the day to be dealing with something like this. Fortunately, Volume walked into the makeshift tavern, providing the Nord with an acceptable excuse.

"Pardon me, Rune." he said, brushing past him, "We'll discuss this later."

The young Khajiit woman looked worse for wear when Brynjolf approached her at her small table on the platform above the water of the ratways. She was only half awake by his guess. Her pointed ears were lowered from their normal perked upright position.

"You alright, Lass?" He asked hesitantly.

"Hm- Oh, Brynjolf! G-good morning…" she snapped to attention as she noticed him. "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for asking." her tone was softer than expected.

Brynjolf's brow furrowed at this response. Volume was often known by the Guild members for her plucky personality and seemingly limitless energy. This was far from the Volume that Brynjolf knew and- No. What was he thinking? Relationships like that between members of the Thieves Guild, and more importantly, the Nightingales, were looked down upon with good reason.

"Rough night then?" he said, breaking the momentary silence.

"You could say that." she sighed. Ever since Volume had been made Guild Master, she and Brynjolf had become distant. He wasn't sure why, but Brynjolf didn't want to lose the closeness that the two had had when he first recruited Volume all those months ago.

Volume stood to leave, only to be stopped by Brynjolf putting an arm in front her.

"Where do you think you're off to in such a hurry, Lass?" he asked, his tone was gentle.

"Am I not allowed to go where I want on my own? Honestly, Bryn, let me through." she slipped around him, flicking her tail as she did so.

He lowered his arm before speaking, "I'm just worried about ya, Lass. You seem barely awake as is."

"So?" she turned to face the red haired Nord. She wasn't sure what made her lash out at him. Something told her that the nightmare was getting at her. Volume bit her tongue discreetly, trying to hide her embarrassment. Brynjolf looked rather taken aback by her harsh tone.

"Sorry…" she sighed, glancing at the wood floor.

Brynjolf was silent for a moment before speaking, "It's not like you to back down from an argument that fast. Last time you acted anything like this it was back when we were dealing with Mercer." She could tell without even looking up that he wore an expression of sincere concern for her.

"In a sense, that is the case…" Volume said under her breath, barely audible to even herself.

"An interesting tool, Nocturnal…"commented the large Daedric Prince as he watched the Khajiit woman (girl really, she was exceptionally young for bearing such power, he thought to himself) walk away from the red haired Nordic thief in the shadow sphere. Across from him, another Daedra stood, viewing the scene.

"Well, she is my favorite Nightingale for a reason." said Nocturnal curtly, "Honestly though, why do you insist on tormenting her? She's not yours to play with, Molag-Bal."

The Daedric Prince of Domination grinned at the lady Daedra, "In ways, she is."

"No, she's not. That would be like Hircine or Clavicus claiming her just because she completed a set task for them." she snapped.

"She did kill for them, and myself, might I add." he objected.

The Daedric Prince of Thieves glared at him before speaking, "She killed, not for them, but because she had no choice. The girl's not an idiot."

"But of course, Lady Nocturnal." said Molag-Bal, "I only ask that you allow for me to play with the poor thing for a bit longer. I wish to test her limits."

"I am well aware of how far her limits extend. That was proven when she passed through the Pilgrim's Path. I won't allow this." She growled, her patience growing thin.

Molag-Bal thought for a moment before speaking, "How about a bet?"

"A bet?" she raised a brow in question.

"Yes, a wager, if you will." he grinned at her reaction.

"And just what do you have in mind?"

His grin grew wider as he spoke, "If I am able to turn your precious Nightingale to swear her allegiance to me in fifty days time, then I win her soul for eternity. If not-"

"You are willing to admit that possibility? This is most unlike you…" Nocturnal had been intrigued by this new idea. While she wasn't fond of the named outcome for if she lost, she was interested it what might occur.

"When making any wager, one must take all things into consideration, no?"

"Fair enough, continue."

Molag-Bal chuckled to himself, "If you were to win, then you shall be able to keep her in both life and death."

The lady Daedra gave a bitter look upon hearing this possible reward.

"Is something wrong, Lady Nocturnal?" he asked, worried that he might lose his chance.

"Yes." she stated bluntly, "I would have the same result if I didn't take you up on this wager."

"So what, might I ask, would you also have as your prize?"

"I get a request of you alongside the first offer." she said.

"If you accept the bet, I will complete anything you ask of me, proven that you win." he gave shallow bow as he spoke.

"And you will have to accomplish a second task in order to win." added Nocturnal.

"WHAT!?"

"You heard right, Molag-Bal. The stakes are rather high on my part, and much lower on your own. So if I were to lose to you then I would need something to make me feel better about it. We don't need a war among the Daedra, do we?" she said, voice even but smiling.

"Of course not." the male Daedra struggled not to lose his temper with Nocturnal. "What else would you have me accomplish in this gambit?"

It was Nocturnal's turn to smile at this new attitude.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, and if you didn't, please do. My name's Nightshade the13th, and a huge thanks to Sylvia Hunter Of Artemis for publishing this for me. Disclaimer: the only things in this fanfiction that belong to me would be Volume and the story itself. Everything else belongs to Bestada Studios.**

 **Word of warning: this first chapter took a good bit longer than I wanted to write, but I will try to update regularly (once a week, hopefully).**

 **Thanks again!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Volume's gaze drifted over the books and papers littering her desk. Most were letters from the numerous contacts of the Guild, but some were maps and the sketches of plans for future heist. Sighing, Volume leaned back in her chair.

She had spent all of yesterday wandering about the Rift, doing what she could to distract herself from the previous night's nightmare. She had been successful in hunting deer and avoiding the large frostbite spiders that roamed the hold. But it did little to help.

"Morning, Lass." a voice snapped the young Guild Master back to reality. Brynjolf was standing across from her on the other side of the desk.

"You seem to enjoy sneaking up on me lately, Brynjolf." Volume muttered.

"Strictly speaking, I shouldn't be able to."

She shrugged at this comment.

"You've been distracted for the past two mornings. Not to mention you vanished for all of yesterday." his tone was light. Volume tilted her head back to look at the curved ceiling of the cistern. "So Guild Master," he continued, ignoring her sign of not wanting to be talked to, "About a month ago, you had told us about the ancient Nord tombs and their riches."

"Your point?" she asked turning to look back at him. She remembered the conversation well. She had come back one evening with a large amount of jewels, gold, and other valuables. Most of the Guild members had been curious as to where she had managed to obtain such a vast quantity of riches, and was she to deny them that information?

A small smile played at the corners of Brynjolf's mouth as he spoke, "Perhaps we could go for a bit of tomb raiding? The vault could always use more gold, and you seem in need for a bit of excitement."

"If by excitement, you mean flirting with death and an untold number of dead Nords than you seem to be onto something…"

"Is that a yes?"

"You bet it is." Volume said, standing from her chair a little too fast. She stumbled forward, but was quick to catch herself before she could faceplant on her desk. "I'm good." she said in response to the red haired Nord's expression.

"Hard to believe you survived Irkngthand when you can barely survive standing."

"Watch your tongue, thief." she snapped back.

Brynjolf smiled at this. It was good to see Volume acting more like her normal self; sassy and energetic.

"I'll grab my equipment and meet you at the north gate in twenty minutes." she said, "Could you tell Vex and Delvin that we'll be out for the rest of today for me?"

"Sure thing, Lass. See you in twenty minutes than."

She called a 'Thank you' over her shoulder as she walked off towards her small space in the cistern where she kept her belongings. Brynjolf watched her leave for a moment before heading off to retrieve his own.

* * *

"This certainly is impressive."

"I'm not sure if there's a better way to describe theses things." said Volume, "Although 'deadly' would be a close second."

The two thieves were standing under the large stone arches of the ancient Nordic crypt. Despite the obvious lack of snow, it reminded the Khajiit a good deal of a slightly smaller Bleak Falls Barrow.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Whenever you are, Lass." he responded.

Volume placed a hand on the thick iron door guarding the tomb, and pushed it open enough for them to slip through. The first chamber was really more so a grand hall.

 _No surprise there,_ thought Volume, _The Nords of old were always proud. Even when it was completely unnecessary. Old blokes liked to make palaces out of graves._

There were spots where a stone pillar had crumbled, or a wall pierced by woody vines. But other than that, it was remarkably well preserved.

"Quite different from Dwemer ruins, eh Lass?" commented the Nord.

"Ya think? The ancient Nords had their own way of making death-traps out of their final resting places. The Dwemer just made a city-like fortress underground."

"Good way of looking at it I suppose…"

They made their way silently across the hall, the only sound coming from an occasional draft of wind that had somehow managed to slip in. At the end of the hall was a corridor leading to the rest of the tomb. Here, Volume drew her axe and dagger, their brassy metal glimmered faintly in the dim light.

The corridor was long and often crumbling in places. Every once in awhile the two would come across a small alcove tucked into the wall of the tunnel. Most were barren of anything valuable. Every couple of burial urns would have a hand full of coins or a small soul gem. But most were empty.

Soon enough Volume and Brynjolf entered another chamber. It was composed mainly of wide columns littered with numerous rectangular holes, filled with the remains of long ago Nords. As went for the walls of the burial chamber.

Tail twitching, the Khajiit thief sheathed her drawn weapons and exchanged them for her bow.

"Why a bow?"

"It's a lot faster and a lot less work." said Volume, careful to remain unnoticed by all but her companion, "Now close your mouth before you wake the entire crypt."

She crept further into the chamber, arrow notched on the bow string. Brynjolf followed, keeping himself about five feet behind her. Far enough for if she were to stop without warning, but close enough to rush forward in any case that he might need to. The Khajiit thief had made a point of warning the Nord about the traps set by the tomb's creators.

Coming around one pillar, Volume's ears perked upright before flattening against her hair as she raised her bow, arrow drawn shifted his position to see what she was aiming at.

Across the the cramped corridor of this part of the chamber was a remarkably well preserved corpse, propped upright in the alcove of the wall. Despite being over a millenia dead, all the skin and flesh had managed to stay intact. Brynjolf was willing to bet that if he had known whoever this man was in life than he would have been able recognize him now.

There was a sharp ' _twang!'_ as volume released the readied arrow. The dead Nord made a low grunt as it fell from its spot, the arrow lodged firmly in its chest.

"I thought you said they were dangerous, Lass." he muttered.

"They _are_ dangerous." said Volume simply, "But much less so if you take them out from a distance."

"Really now?"

"If you doubt me, the next one's yours." she said, slinking over to the fallen corpse to retrieve her arrow and any gold she could find on it.

Volume had kept her promise on that, standing out of the way and letting Brynjolf do all the work. After a short, but breathless battle on the Nord's part, he agreed that using a bow was much less painstaking.

"You actually doubted me, didn't you?" she grinned.

And so they continued.

For the next hour (or three, Brynjolf had lost track of time in the twisting corridors) the two thieves proceeded to pillage the chambers they come across of any valuables that they could find and comfortably carry, making quick work of any more waking dead they found.

"I do take that they have a name?" he asked at one point.

"Who?"

"The corpses. You haven't exactly called them anything aside from 'Dead Nords of Old'."

"Oh…" she had a small laugh at this comment, "Yeah, they've got a name and that would be 'Draugr'. The stronger ones often have the title of 'Restless', 'Wight', or 'Scourge'."

"All dependant on their rank in life I suppose?"

"Hm- Never thought about it actually. But yes, I'd say that's a safe assumption."

Soon enough, the two came upon a set of thick wooden doors. Volume went first, like she had for most of the entire excursion.

"Main chamber." she beamed, clearly pleased with herself, "Last stop, Bryn, then we're out of here."

"That's still going to be a while, Lass. It took us plenty long to get here as is." Brynjolf noted.

"No, it should only take us about five minutes to get out."

"Pardon?"

"You'll see, after we finish up here of course." Volume had to restrain herself from skipping further into the large chamber out of excitement. Brynjolf took a moment to examine their surroundings.

Dim, evening light was visible through gaps in the far above ceiling. The floor was drowned in at least an inch or two of water, while a raised section on the far end of the chamber was sheltered from the moister.

"Coming?" Volume's voice broke his train of thought. She was already half way across the drowned stone floor waiting for him to follow. The red haired Nord nodded before setting off after her.

"Do you do this often, Lass?" Brynjolf asked as he reached her.

"Do what often?"

"Delving into ancient ruins on your own with no telling of what you'll find?"

"Hmm…" Volume paused for a second before answering, "I do often go through crypts, tombs, and ruins, but I usually have an objective for being there."

"How so?" They were now at the foot of the raised portion of the floor, steps leading up to the top of it.

"Well, normally someone tells me that they need a person to find an item of interest. And then they point to the tomb, or other location that seems rather forbidding, saying that it's in there somewhere. I say 'Sure, I'll be back by tomorrow with said item of interest, have my pay ready.'" the Khajiit drew her axe and dagger upon seeing that they had reached the top of the stairs.

There was five coffins placed neatly on this section of stone floor. Four were set upright with two stationed on either side walls. The one in the center was laid flat on the ground, yet it was much more decorative than the others.

"Mind whatever's in the center sarcophagus." she said in a hushed tone to Brynjolf, "I'll see what I can do about that, then join you in taking care of the other four if they wake up."

Brynjolf cast a questioning glance her direction, but she had already silently snuck over towards the center, tail flicking from side to side in anticipation. One of the coffin lids on the left fell with a heavy thud. The Draugar stepped out of its resting place and drew its sword, searching for whatever had waken it. Volume had stopped moving the moment the coffin lid had fallen. In more than a few occasions this tactic had helped her cheat an unpleasant fate.

Ambling forward on stiff legs, the Draugar approached the center sarcophagus, ancient broadsword held out in front of itself. Brynjolf held his breath as he watched, unsure as what to do. If he charged at it, than he would definitely alert the remaining dead. If he stayed put, then it was only a matter of time before it noticed Volume.

The young Khajiit didn't move. Brynjolf wasn't even sure if she was breathing, she was so still. The Draugar turned away from where Volume crouched in the shadows. She took this as her chance to move forward. Only a few slow steps at a time in the dead Nord's direction, making no audible sound. He watched as her thin, clawed fingers gripped the brass and leather handle of her axe, and cautiously brought it up above her narrow shoulders, a good spot for bringing the weapon down on someone's figure.

The Draugar never stood a chance.

Brynjolf had to bite his own tongue to keep from laughing with relief. Why had even worried so much like that? The Lass knew what she was doing. She was far more experienced with these situations than Brynjolf. It would only make sense…

Volume gestured for him to approach. Compiling, he drew his twin orcish daggers from his belt, careful to make no noise.

"Right then," She whispered, "We got lucky with that one, but I doubt the last four will go down as quietly."

With that said, Volume knocked the end of her dagger against the side of the center coffin. The noise made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as it echoed through the grand chamber waking the other Draugr.

 **A/N: Hello again! Nightshade the 13th reporting for duty. *Straightens self and gives a short salute.* I know I said that I would do everything in my power to update at least once a week, (and that I am failing at that) but school lets out on Thursday (6/23/16) so I should have more time to write this story.**

 **Thank you, to whomever followed this story! Please leave reviews! Constructive criticism is extremely helpful, and much appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Was that really necessary!?" Brynjolf shouted in annoyance.

"Best idea I had at the time." Volume stated, yanking the brass blade of her axe from a fallen Draugar.

" _Best idea at the time?_ Couldn't you have waited for a better one?!"

"It worked."

"Even so-!" Brynjolf cut himself off. Arguing like this never went anywhere. Especially not with the Lass. She was more stubborn than Vex at times.

"Well?" she asked. Her weapons were back on her belt, her tail flicked in question. Brynjolf took this as a sign that she was done fighting, but would if she found it necessary.

"Just warn me next time, Lass." he grumbled.

Volume smirked with satisfaction, "Of course, Bryn. But that also means that there _will_ be a next time for that to happen."

"Quick as whip, like always." his tone was flat, but not spiteful.

"Come on, Brynjolf. We still need to get out of here." Volume said, turning towards the furthest wall.

"And how do you plan on doing that? You mentioned something about a fast exit earlier." Brynjolf said as he trailed behind her. Something along the left side of Volume's dark leather armor caught his eye.

"Eh- Ancient Nords had an annoying habit of placing an incredibly convenient exit at the end of the crypts. Impossible to find in one direction, but you might as well have painted in bold letters _**Exit This Way**_ at the other - _GAH!"_ Volume whipped around to face the Nordic thief in response to a sharp pain in her left side. " _What the HECK?!"_

"Sorry! I didn't know you were hurt there. I thought it was just cut in your armor." Brynjolf said hurriedly, raising his hands in defense.

Volume blinked at him momentarily before raising her left arm as to search her flank for said cut. She found it rather quickly, considering that it was quite long, about six inches at least, that ran just beneath her rib-cage and down her back. She winced as another spasm of pain ran through her side.

"Hey! Easy, Lass. Neither of us know how deep that wound is. Let's get out of here so we can tend to that in fresh air." Brynjolf placed a hand on her shoulder to steady the younger thief.

Volume nodded as she started to lead him towards the exit.

"How didn't you notice this before, Lass?" Brynjolf asked as he examined Volume's wound. It was a long gash in her side to say the least. Not deep enough to be fatal unless left untreated. Something that Brynjolf was not about to let happen.

Volume shrugged, but soon came to regret that action when her flank shrieked in protest. "I felt a sharp slap there, back in the the last chamber. Guess I was too caught up in the fighting to pay much attention to it." she said, wincing. The upper portion of her armor lay off to the side, leaving her wearing the simple, sleeveless, brown shirt that she wore under her armor. The thin, pale cream and brown fur on her arms prickled in the crisp night air. Brynjolf had made a small campfire for light and warmth outside the crypt. It didn't do much for the latter,but it provided him with plenty of light to treat Volume's wounded side.

Brynjolf pressed a damp cloth to the lady Khajiit's wound, careful not to irritate it. He saw her flinch out of the corner of his eye.

"Sorry, Lass." he said, taking a small roll of linen bandages from one of the two packs set next to them, "Vex should be able to patch you up solidly when we get back, but this is all I can do for you right now." Brynjolf knotted the end of the bandage as he finished wrapping it around her waist.

Sighing, Volume pulled down the hem of her previously hiked up shirt to cover the new bandage.

"Thanks, Bryn." she said as she laid herself on her uninjured side for the night, "See ya in the morning."

Brynjolf nodded solemnly.

"Oi! Cat-Lady! Wakey wakey. We need to talk!" a oddly accented voice sounded in Volume's ear.

"How do you know you have the right 'Cat-Lady'?" she muttered, keeping her eyes shut. If there was one thing that got on Volume's nerves in was people who thought it was pleasant to disturb another's sleep. And then the same people who also thought that a Khajiit's claws were just for show.

"Oh come on, Volume. I know it's you. Ya spared my life, remember?" the voice insisted.

"What?" she opened her eyes just to find herself face to face with a gray and brown dog, like any that you could find in Skyrim. After a moment's hesitation she spoke, "WHAT THE _HECK_ , BARBAS!?"

"See? Right Cat-Lady." said the dog called Barbas.

At this point, Brynjolf was awake, although not quite sure if he actually was. On the other side of the dead campfire, sat a dog and Volume, who was now pushing herself into an upright position to face the dog. Brynjolf could have sworn he heard the dog speak just now.

"Did you have another falling out with your master? Otherwise, I don't see much a point for you being here." she said.

"Nah…" said the dog, "Ol' Sheogorath stopped by the other day asking me to do him a favor."

"You can talk?" Brynjolf asked, not quite sure if he would get an answer.

The dog turned to face him before opening its mouth, "Skyrim is now host to giant, flying lizards and two-legged cat-men-"

" _Hey!"_ snapped Volume, to no one's notice.

"And you're surprised by me? Yes. I just talked. And am continuing to do so." finished the dog.

Brynjolf hesitated for a moment, not knowing how to react. Volume seemed strangely accustomed to the talking canine, but even so…

"Really, Barbas?" said the Khajiit woman, her ears lowering in annoyance. "Sorry, Bryn. I guess I've got some explaining to do, huh?"

"Y-yes. That would be helpful, Lass." said the Nord, still feeling slightly dazed.

Volume smiled weakly at him before speaking:

 _Volume stood in front of the large cobblestone arch that marked the entrance to the capital city of the Falkreath Hold. She was on her way to Solitude to 'retrieve' some information from one of the Guild's contacts, Gulum-Ei. Her reason for being in Falkreath was to sell some of the loot she had collected from a small gang of bandits that had made the decision to try and mug her on the road. After that small hiccup, Volume had promised herself a bit of rest and some coin that was relatively honestly earned._

 _Soon after leaving the trading post, she overheard some of the guards talking about the local blacksmith, and how he was looking for a certain dog. Assuming that this could prove to be a simple job that she would be more than able to handle, Volume set off to talk to the blacksmith._

 _He had been plenty easy to persuade into paying the Khajiit thief in advance, so while daylight was left, she went to search for the said dog._

 _Finding the canine would have been possible even if Volume wasn't trying. It had literally ran right up to her as soon as she set foot outside the city walls. The dog had introduced himself in a similar as to how he did to Brynjolf, curtness and all._

 _The dog (Barbas, as he was called) explained his predicament to Volume. Apparently, Barbas had had a 'falling out' with his master, Clavicus the Vile and requested her assistance in getting the Daedric Prince of wishes to take him back._

"Long story short," sighed Volume, "We had a brief talk with the bloke. He sent us to collect a fancy, enchanted axe and bring it to him. With that done, Clavicus gave me a choice; give up the axe and he takes Barbas back, or kill Barbas and keep the axe. I think it's pretty clear what I chose…"

"You're a Daedra worshiper, Lass?" puzzled Brynjolf.

"Really? That's all get from that story?" Volume stared at him in bewilderment, "And you are too, so who are you to speak?"

"Point taken." he said, running a hand through his auburn hair.

"Eh… Well, I'm not so much a worshipper as a cooperator. That also applies to my relationship with Lady Nocturnal." she said the last part under her breath as if not wanting to let prying ears hear.

"That's understandable, Lass." Brynjolf nodded. "But that doesn't explain why Barbas is here at the moment."

"True. It doesn't. Care to fill us in, Barbas? You said Sheogorath asked a favor of you, before we were interrupted." The two thieves turned to look at the rather shaggy hound.

"Sure, I'll fill ya both in. But if you've got some place to be then I can do it on the road." said Barbas.

"Oh, right…" a look of dread appeared on Volume's face, "We told Delvin and Vex that we'd only be gone for the remainder of yesterday… Mara have mercy, we're done for." She winced in pain as she tried to stand. Not much about her wound had changed, apparently.

"Easy, Lass, let's _not_ reopen that gash before we get back to the Guild." said Brynjolf as he walked over to where she sat to help her up.

"Guild? So you're with the Thieves Guild, huh? Oh well, not my place to question your life choices. Although I probably shouldn't be surprised, what with you both being Nightingales and all." said Barbas.

"How much about us and our lives do know about?" questioned Brynjolf.

"Enough."

"Ignore him, Bryn. It'll only bother you more." said Volume as she pulled on the tough leather torso of her armor. The cut in her flank would often protest with a very sharp pain.

"Are you sure you'll be alright for walking back, Lass?" asked the red haired Nord.

"I'll be fine, Bryn. Come on, both of you, we need to get back before they decide to send someone out to look for us." she said, slinging her pack over he shoulder. "Barbas, you still need to explain your being here, and what favor Sheogorath needed."

"Will do, Volume, let's get going."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! I'm horrible online author, I know. Three chapters in and I haven't been able to keep the darn promise I made at the end of the first. But my only excuse is that this is not my account, (nor do I have one for that matter…) so while I send Sylvia Hunter Of Atremis the completed chapter, it is up to her to actually post the update (not to be rude, she has been busy lately). So, thanks for your patience, Nightshade the 13th.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

A seemingly normal day, (or moment if you can't decide whether it's day or night) often has a tendency for having something that doesn't normally happen in it's duration. Especially if you were to include a handful of the nineteen Daedric Princes into the mixture.

Barbas was trotting down an old road in Oblivion when the Lord of Madness approached him.

"Ah- Barbas, ya young pup! Would you mind doing your old Uncle Sheogorath a favor?" he asked.

"Sure. If it's not too out of the way, what d'ya need?" replied the dog as he scratched the spot behind his right ear.

"I'm sure you've meet a certain Khajiit woman, named Volume, no?"

"Yeah. I know her. Helped convince my master to take me back."

"Ahh… that's good. Well, I need you to keep an eye on her for the next… forty-nine days or so." said Sheogorath bluntly.

"That long? What for? And where'd ya get that number, anyways?" protested Barbas, "Don't get me wrong, Sheogorath, I won't mind doing that for her, but if Clavicus gets angry with me, then it's on you to settle things."

"Of course, of course! You can leave that up to little ol' me, Pup!" assured the mad Daedra.

"That is so comforting…" muttered Barbas sarcastically. It wasn't that he didn't trust Sheogorath, it was that he didn't trust his lack of sanity.

"Well than, Barbas! You had best be going. Can't keep the young lady waiting now, hmm?"

"That certainly explains your presence, Barbas." said Volume.

The three were strolling down a well beaten road in the Rift, making their way to the Thieves Guild in the city Riften.

"But why forty-nine days?" questioned Brynjolf.

"My guess is that the original number of days for whatever's happening- or about to happen- was fifty. So, I'll be trailing behind Volume here for a bit." confirmed the dog.

Volume tilted her head to one side, "Yet, we don't know why Sheogorath asked you to do this?" The gash in her flank would throb in time to her walking, causing a limp in the young Khajiit's step. Being honest with herself, Volume wasn't sure how much longer she could continue walking up steep slopes at this pace. Hopefully, Riften was within an hour's walk, but she didn't have anyway to know for sure.

"Don't know, myself, actually" admitted Barbas, "Say, how far are we from your place, Volume? You aren't looking so good…"

"Gee, Barbas, thanks for noticing." she rolled her eyes in sarcasm.

"The Lass got caught in the side by a Druagar's blade yesterday. It shouldn't be too dangerous, unless left alone." explained Brynjolf.

"Ah- Best not do that then, eh?"

Volume nodded in agreement, her thoughts elsewhere at the moment:

DOVAH-KIIN!

The dry tundra of Whiterun shook at noise. Volume's already frayed nerves almost lost themselves to panic. Hugging herself in attempt to stop trembling, she sank to her knees.

The young Khajiit woman had just slain a dragon. The now dry blood still on her steel axe. If the size of the beast hadn't been enough to thoroughly traumatize Volume, the guards had called her Dragonborn.

Dragonborn!

Fabled slayer of dragons and savior of the land!

All her memorial life, Volume had been nothing more than a petty, thieving, Khajiit, doing what she had to in order to survive in the harsh lands she traveled. She could barely recall when she was a small child and desired power. She soon found power to be a foolish notion to chase, and lost all interest in it.

But now this!

Volume's stomach still churned from when her body had absorbed the Dragon's soul. She hadn't tried to 'shout' as the guards had suggested. Her fear kept her from so much as opening her mouth to speak.

Doing her best to compose herself, Volume stood to continue down the path to Whiterun. She had a task to complete.

'Finish the task at hand.' she told herself, 'You can run from it after you finish this one task…'

If memory serves right, it didn't get much better.

"Lass? Are you alright?" Brynjolf's voice severed Volume's thoughts. Not as though she was complaining about it. She didn't enjoy thinking about her first week in Skyrim. Between Helegen and the summons from the Greybeards, Volume preferred to leave the past in the past.

"Wh- Oh, yeah, I'm good. Got distracted for a moment. Or more..." she added as she noticed the tall watchtowers that stood outside Riften.

Brynjolf cast Volume a skeptical glance but said nothing. He had learned soon after meeting the Lass that she could be more stubborn than a proud billy goat at times. Not the best trait for a person with a dangerous lifestyle, but it was better than some.

"Where the heck have the two of you been?" demanded Delvin Mallory.

Volume, Brynjolf, and Barbas had just arrived in the Ragged Flagon barely a moment ago when the senior thief had caught sight of them. As was to be expected, Delvin was not the least bit pleased. Volume knew for a fact that it would take a lot to get him to excuse their tardiness completely, even if she was his superior.

Brynjolf dropped his pack on the ground in front of Delvin, "Take a look." Glowering, the older thief opened the pack to find a large quantity of gold, soul gems, and other jewels.

"Hm- Well that proves the two of you were actually working yesterday. But where, by Mara's mercy, did you get a dog? Or why, is a better question?"

Volume turned to look at Barbas. Since entering sight of Riften, he had kept silent with the exception of a few barks at random guardsmen.

"Found him this morning. Didn't see a reason not to let him tag along." she said, putting on a smile. She didn't like lying to her partners in crime, so she didn't. Volume just chose her words with care. "Now then," she added, dropping her lighter pack next to Brynjolf's, "If you don't mind, where's Vex? I have no idea how bad this gash is, but I can feel every nerve in that area, so I can assume that it's mildly serious at the very least."

Karliah waited at a respectful distance from the Ebonmere. At least once or twice a month she would come here to speak with Lady Nocturnal. The Dunmer woman saw it as a responsibility as a Nightingale to keep her Lady updated about the current status of the Thieves Guild and the other two Agents. Karliah was sure that Nocturnal had this information already available, but these visits helped her feel as though she wasn't neglecting her duty as she had so many years ago.

This time was different though. Karliah had been waiting for over an hour now for Lady Nocturnal to appear, or even just one of the past Nightingales to come and tell her that their Lady was occupied with a more important matter. Over an hour and no one had come.

Something was off here.

Something was very off.

A/N: HELLOOO..! I'm a terrible person, yes, I am perfectly aware of that, and I am sincerely sorry for it. But old habits die hard as I am sure we all know. Anyway- A shorter chapter than usual (due to a cherry of writer's block on top of my sundae of dilemmas) so if you have any suggestions be selfless and share them for the sake of the story. Huge thank you to those of you who have followed and favorited, and if you haven't, please consider doing so.

Thank you and sorry,

Nightshade the 13th


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